


Assurance

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville has a bad day, but Draco’s there for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assurance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IzPerplexing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IzPerplexing/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
> 
> Prize for IzPerplexing.

Draco’s woken up by his boyfriend rolling on top of him and roughly fucking him into the mattress. He screams loud enough to actually shatter the silencing spells, and Potter hasn’t stopped glaring at him all morning. 

Draco eats at the Slytherin table and Neville eats at the Gryffindor table, because they can’t stand each other’s friends, and Draco still has pride and won’t move. At lunch, he tries to drag Neville over, even offering a hand job under the table, but Neville won’t go. Draco tries to tug him by the sweater, but Neville becomes obstinate and stubborn as a rock. He’s a whole different person when they’re out of Gryffindor territory, and Draco eventually gives up.

In Potions, Neville gets paired with them, and Draco relearns why Neville can’t be strong all the time. 

He probably knew, but somehow he’d forgotten about the nervous, shy side to Neville. After the war, Neville’s confidence went way up. He’d grown stronger under the Carrows, stronger than Draco had ever been, and it’s strange to see him now, cowering behind a bubbling cauldron. 

Slughorn doesn’t snap at him the way Professor Snape did, but other Slytherins are just as bad. Goyle, the third person to their desk, is blessedly quiet, probably because he knows Draco would murder him otherwise. But Pansy’s a jealous jerk, and she hasn’t stopped laughing at Neville all class. Slughorn’s too stupid to notice, and when she passes them to reach the supply closet, she hisses, _“Nice potion, squib,”_ to Neville. 

It’s one too many insults packed into one hour, and Neville wilts like one of his Floating Holihorn bushes. Draco isn’t good at public affection; he never has been. He just tells Pansy that she’s being awful, because she is. She just sticks out her tongue and grumbles when Slughorn’s not looking, “What’re you standing up for him for, anyway? He’s a complete fool—you could do _so_ much better.”

“What, like you?” Draco sneers. “If I wanted to get cobwebs on my dick, I’d give up my House-elf, thanks.”

She knows he doesn’t have one anymore, but before she can yell at him, Slughorn floats over to the area, and he ‘tsk’s at their cauldron. “I’m sorry, Mr. Longbottom, but this is the third time this week you’ve botched a simple potion... I’m afraid I’ll have to give you detention.” Neville just nods like he knew it was coming. Slughorn doesn’t even ask Draco or Goyle if they’re responsible for it—he knows who sunk their ship. Draco puts his hand on Neville’s thigh under the desk, but Neville just dejectedly stares at the ground while Goyle pulls out a new cauldron, ready to start over. 

Draco can be the biggest bitch in the world to Neville, but not when he needs to present a united front against other Slytherins. And not when Neville’s actually upset. Neville doesn’t show up that night when he’s supposed to, and Draco checks his watch outside the portrait hole. Half an hour later, he wanders up the stairs to find Neville standing in the entrance hall, looking awkward and out of place. Draco rolls his eyes and grabs Neville’s sleeve, dragging him back down to the dormitory. 

Draco drags Neville right past a sneering Pansy and a staring Blaise, right into the bedroom, right up to his bed. He shoves Neville onto it and pulls his curtains closed, casting all the usual spells. Neville’s sitting up, and Draco turns around to shove him back down, moving to straddle his waist. Neville shuffles up so his head’s at least in the pillows, and he looks up at Draco with furrowed brows as if to say, ‘what did I do now?’

“What is wrong with you?” Draco grumbles, crossing his arms. “You’re supposed to be a Gryffindork—when’d you turn into a coward on me?”

Neville shrugs lamely, looking off to the side. Draco grabs his collar and forces his head back around, leaning over Neville like a cheetah that’s tackled its prey.

“No, you’re not getting it. Look at me. _Look_ at me. Do you see how gorgeous I am? You think I’d be with just any old loser? I’m a _catch_ , okay? Which means you have to be pretty great to have me.” Draco flips his hair as if to prove his point, preening and tilting his body to show off. Neville’s lips twitch in an almost-smile, and that spurs Draco on to continue, “You know I could have just about anybody I wanted, seriously. I could be fucking the Minister of Magic if I wanted too, but I’m with _you._ So I don’t know where on Earth you get off playing under-confident. You should be brimming with it. You should be strutting around like you own the world, because you have me, so that’s basically the same thing.”

Neville snorts and breaks into a grin. Draco leans back to pose properly, rocking his hips once for emphasis. Neville mumbles, grinning fondly, “You’re ridiculous.”

Draco leans down again and nuzzles his nose against Neville’s, drawling, “No, I’m amazing. And I assure you, luck alone is not enough for you to have gotten me, so you can’t be that bad, either.”

“I’m... an idiot.” Neville sighs. He seems to deflate under Draco, even though he isn’t necessarily frowning anymore. Draco frowns instead, a little miffed that his brilliant tactics aren’t working. “Seriously. I suck at just about everything—”

“Not sucking.”

“Shut up.” Neville laughs again but tries to continue, “You know what I mean. I’m probably going to flunk out of Hogwarts and end up wasting away in some obscure Muggle shop. I can’t seem to get a single ‘E,’ and I’m starting to think ‘O’s are a myth.”

“I get ‘O’s all the time,” Draco says immediately. He realizes belatedly that that’s probably not the best response. Neville nods, though, like he knows. Trying to fix it, Draco tries, “But you do well in Herbology.”

“That’s an easy subject.”

“Not it’s not,” Draco insists, even though he dropped it already and has no idea. “And you helped defeat the Dark Lord—they’ll be clamouring to hire you when eighth year’s over. You could be an Auror easily.” Then Draco stops to shiver—the thought of being with an Auror sends a chill up his spine. Probably because it’s deliciously _wrong_ , and it makes him think of handcuffs and role-playing. 

Neville still looks skeptical. Draco kisses his cheek to kiss that a way, and then kisses his chin, then his forehead, then his mouth. When Draco reaches his destination, Neville’s lips part automatically, and Draco slips his tongue inside with a smirk. Neville lifts one hand to Draco’s shoulders, rubbing him gently, pulling him down a little farther. Draco brings both of his hands to either side of Neville’s face. He thumbs Neville’s chocolate hair back, and then he lifts up to murmur, “And you’re a great kisser.”

Neville’s smile grows. Draco mirrors it. He drops his head to the pillows beside Neville, body falling heavily atop him, so they’re all lined up from their toes to their shoulders. Neville holds Draco’s back down and strokes it absently—Draco is still running his fingers through Neville’s hair. He searches for Neville’s other hand with his free one and entwines their fingers together. Neville’s looking right at him, and for a moment, they just lie like that, quiet and content. 

Then Neville mumbles, “I do know how lucky I am to have you, by the way.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Draco repeats. “I chose you for a reason.”

“I have no idea what that is. Really. I don’t.”

“Mostly your big dick.”

Neville bursts out into another fit of laughter—Draco grins at his wit. It’s a joke, but Neville is, in fact, rather well endowed. ...But Draco didn’t know that when he first fell in love, and he corrects, “Seriously, though. You’re brave, and you’re strong, and you _are_ smart, even if Slughorn thinks otherwise. He’s an idiot, anyway. You know I’m not in his stupid Slug Club, right? Obviously, he doesn’t know anything.”

Neville’s hand breaks out of Draco’s, and he wraps both of his arms tight around Draco’s torso, hugging him close. “Obviously,” he repeats, grinning.

“And you’re mine and I love you,” Draco finishes.

“I love you, too.”

“Obviously.”

Neville kisses Draco again, and this time they don’t part.


End file.
